Our Mutual Friend
by ALostHeart
Summary: Different Klaroline drabbles told from the point of view of a third party.


**Hi everyone! So this idea has been in my mind for a while now, and I decided to go with it. It's basically a bunch of Klaroline drabbles (random, not connected) told from the point of view of a third party (Mostly Stefan, but not always). The series overall will be called "Our Mutual Friend" *lets hope I don't land a lawsuit from Mr. Dickens. I love that book, ok?" And each one will be named differently.**

**This one is from Steffy's POV and set after World War 2.**

**Most of the ideas I have at the moment are angsty, if you've got suggestions, please go ahead!**

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**Blood, Tears, and Rain**

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I sit there silently, watching her silent tears stream down her face.

'How could he do this to me?' she is saying bitterly. She is past the point of sobbing violently now, yet her tears never quite dried. Her pain is far too grand to be endured.

I stay silent, not daring to utter a syllable, afraid that I might say something that will hurt her. What is it that I can say that will not hurt those exploding feelings of hers? What is it that I can mouth that will ease that intolerable pain of hers? What is it that I will do that can erase all the anguish from her broken heart and disturbed mind? Nothing. Nothing.

I shake my head desperately at last upon her pleading gaze.

'I have no words, Caroline' is all I manage to say.

She clutches the little valuable object in her hand tighter, dropping her gaze to the ground.

'I can't live without him, Stefan' she impatiently huffs, tears breaking their way out of her eyes again. She has been crying constantly for the past three days that I suspect no more tears are left in her eyes. Not that _he _is in a better shape.

'Then tell him that' I attempt to convince her uselessly. I know certainly what it is to follow my sentence.

'I can never do that' she would say 'I could never forgive him for what he did to me. I can never trust him again. How do you expect me to forget it all and go on with my life with him' she would cry.

And indeed, she does.

The torn woman she is this month, between the fact that he hurt her far too much, far beyond the point of repair, and the fact that he is the most important person in her life, that he is the love she could never replace or move on from the way she felt about him, the way she believes, just like I believe, she would never feel about anyone else.

'What do you want to do?' I ask for the billionth time although I know the answer.

'I don't know, Stefan. You tell me. What should I do?' her voice shakes as she begs for a response I do not have 'how can I fall out of love with him?' she licks her lip, dropping her gaze. Just by looking at her anxious face, I realize that she does not mean her last question. No matter how hard she tries to convince herself, she does not want to fall out of love with him. As a matter of fact the idea of falling out of love with him scares her, frightens her. The look in her eyes utters clearly that she does not want to. The idea of her heart not belonging to him makes her nauseous, makes her heart clench in her chest and her lungs cease to breathe. If only he, too, can see it.

I can still remember when she first told me about him, how he looked at her, how it felt when he held her hand, how her heart sang his name whenever he was there, how everything seemed so beautiful, despite its truthful ugliness from where she swayed between clouds, looking downwards, she saw everything through colorful rainbows. She couldn't help but be happy, in a time where all else was gloomy and depressed.

Back then I could not believe it. Caroline is a romantic. No one could ever feel what she claimed to back then, and I kept convincing myself with that thought. Imagine my shock when he, too, admitted that she was his everything, that her image was what kept him alive and striving in the battlefield, that the thought of going back to her, to her smile, her blue eyes and blonde hair, was what kept him moving forward, pushed him to his limits, and gave him courage he never thought he had.

It feels so dark, suddenly. My shock is beyond all at the sight of them now. How can such beauty turn into this catastrophic heartbreak? I've known them my entire life, I've known their crystal-clear hearts since the very beginning, and I, for the life of me, cannot bring myself to understand what it is that broke them. A shameful ghost of their past selves is what replaces their beings. An obnoxious figure of what used to be is all I can see. Beyond all hope is their survival. Their hearts changed to misshaped figures that neither could recognize anymore, tauntingly altering them to live a life neither dreamed of living before, agonizingly transforming them to who they never were. They can no longer recognize themselves, they can no longer recognize each other, and all doors blew opened, bringing in endless pain.

"It is him who changed, Stefan" Caroline said once, the very first time they fought, the very first time they taunted each other to the point that she could not endure the sight of him and came to my doorstep crying.

"You changed, too, Caroline" I said calmly back then, contemplating my hands instead of looking into her distant, tired eyes.

"Of course I did. I changed because he did. Because everything about him and the way he treated me, the way he talked to me… changed" she shrugged, stating simply.

My heart sunk that day, the knowledge of what exactly changed him sending splatters of glass into my back. Indeed, he changed. But who can ever blame him?

That day he came to her, apologetic, soft eyes begging her. They said nothing, and from the corner where I silently observed them I saw the spark in their eyes communicating instead. They said nothing, but held one another after the long silence, a long embrace that made me shy away from my prying and retreat to stare at the ceiling.

When I looked back to the doorway, they were both gone.

Now, as I remember that day, I wish that something similar would happen, that he would walk in and she would hold him and everything will go back to how it was between them. But I know that this cannot be.

"Is there a cure for heartache, Stefan?" Caroline asks softly, giving up on the possibility of me giving her answers to her earlier question.

"I really wish there was" I whisper, as though embarrassed by this answer, embarrassed that I cannot help her.

The silence stretches on, for days, for weeks, for months, for years and centuries as her reddened blue eyes stare onto the distance, looking for a solution that does not exist.

"I have to get over him" she finally says. Her voice seems as if she aged a billion years in those silent moments. And I briefly wonder if I would see a grey hair in the mass of blonde should I search right now "We are wrong together." she adds, voice trembling and determination wavering as a fresh set of tears escape her eyes "I will not have a better life without him" I can hardly hear her as she concludes "but maybe he can have a better life without me"

No, Caroline, he cannot.

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I sit there silently, watching his ducked head as he stares on at his hands.

Unlike Caroline he says nothing, he cries no tears, he asks no questions. He merely sits there, breathing and watching his hands, watching them with such disdain that you'd think he would cut them off if provided with a knife this instant.

And I stare at him in helpless wonder, hoping that he would give me a sign that he is still alive, that my best friend had not died in the last a few weeks without so much as a goodbye.

Who am I fooling? My best friend had died years ago. He died a thousand times watching his brothers draw their last breaths in the battlefield. He died a thousand times holding his oldest brother's hand as he struggled to say something to Niklaus that he never quite managed to deliver before his death. He died a thousand times wondering what it was, wondering what it could be. He died a thousand times with every bullet he fired towards the enemy that killed a man he knew had a family, a wife, a lover…He died a thousand times striving to get back to her, died when a bullet almost killed him, died when he thought he would never see her face again, and died when he knew that only he of his siblings would see his love again.

Of course he's changed. The version we knew of him prior to the war no longer exists. It recoiled onto itself and unleashed the darkest parts of his soul, parts that carried on his pain, his nightmares, his demons, the sleepless nights, and killed what was left of his light. Even the beam of sunlight that was his love for Caroline slightly dimmed. As days passed on, his darkness swallowed her whole. She was tortured by his love day and night just like he was. No one knows what hides in the darkest corners of his mind, he confides in no one anymore, he barely talks anymore. It seems hard for him at times to even talk to Caroline.

But they lasted, for so long the held on to each other. Because she loved him so much, and she knew that he, too, loved her just as much. Yet as time went on and he remained distant, more cracks began showing. What was the exploding point that made Caroline so unforgiving of him? No one knows. Whenever I ask her what happened that cold winter night when she burst into the house crying she shakes her head, lets her tears stream down her face and look away. Whenever I ask him what happened that cold winter night that ended everything, he chokes on his words, bends his head, hides his face in his hands, and drowns in shameful silence.

And this is how I ended up in this role, as their mediator, trying desperately to fix the unfixable. They both know that I cannot do a thing for them, but cling onto this last stray of hope all the same.

'I have to get over her' he finally speaks, voice cold and emotionless 'I will not have a better life without her. But maybe she can have a better life without me'

No, Klaus, she cannot.

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I sit there silently watching their pained faces as they both strive to look away from each other. The longing is etched so clearly in their eyes, but the hurt overruns it and crushes the last of the possibilities.

I watch them silently as they both sit in front of me, anguished eyes stubbornly stoned on my face, hands resting inches away from one another's while the only sound that fills the room is the one of hearts breaking.

They sit there next to each other, unable to live together and unable to live without each other.

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**Don't forget to yell at me in that square box below! or go to my tumblr to do that *lostheart95***

**bye!**


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